Nothing More Than Feelings
by PutMoneyInThyPurse
Summary: Scotty, Kelly, a locked room. Or cave, to be precise.


"Holmes."

"Yes, Watson."

"Either I have gone blind, or there is a singular lack of light in this, this wherever we find ourselves."

"Lack of light. Do you mean to imply, sir, that it is dark?"

"The man's powers of deduction never cease to amaze me."

"I cannot see my hand in front of my face."

"Is your hand even, not to put too fine a point upon it, sir, but you do understand, one needs to place the details of these arrangements - is your hand even in front of your face?"

"Now that you mention it, Hoby..." A deep sigh. "I must admit that it is not."

"No?"

"No."

"Thought not."

"Upon what do you base that observation?"

"It is not an observation, sir, it is a deduction. One deduces deductions, but one observes observations, which, since the powers of observation depend upon vision..."

"All right already."

"You have not happened to have done yourself any kind of injury there, have you?"

"No. Yourself?"

"Other than the crack on the noggin, a twin to yours if I were to hazard a guess, and I _do,_ I'm peachy."

"I would ask you if you were seein' double, but seeing as..."

_"Not _seeing, you mean."

"Yes, yes."

"Certainly."

"Absolutely."

"Without a doubt."

"Indubitably."

"That is what I said."

"That you did."

"That I did."

A long silence.

Kelly sighs dramatically. "Well, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into."

"Yeah."

"You doing all right there, Stanley?"

"Mm."

"Scotty."

"'M okay, Kel."

"Now, far be it from me to cast doubt upon your affirmations, but it seems to me, that is to say..."

Kelly trails off uncertainly. There's no response. He could swear Scotty's breathing is kind of raspy.

They're tied back-to-back against a stake in the dirt floor of some cave in a maze of caves. He's pretty sure they can find their way back, but they need to get out of here first, and before _that_ they need to get untied. And the hands against his are _cold. _"Hey, man, no offense, but your hands are chillier than sub-zero temperatures in the Arctic, or even colder, the tone of Velma's last telephone call."

"You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."

"Scotty, don't fool around. Are you hurt anywhere I should know about?"

_"Nope. _Just-work on these ropes, willya-" From behind Kelly, there's a jerky, almost atavistic flailing, Scotty wrenching at his bonds with none of his usual measured purpose in his movements.

"Okay, man," soothes Kelly. "Okay. Just hold your horses. Gotta move this round here, see, and this little bit here - take a deep breath, Houdini, c'mon, work with me here, hm? That's right..."

Kelly doesn't let up on the patter for a moment, and after a lengthy interval of non-stop gabbing, he feels Scotty's muscles relax, his breathing start to even out. Even longer, forever it seems, till the ropes loosen.

"Ah-hah." Kelly makes sure his partner's hands are free, then levers himself up, groaning loudly as bone and muscle creaks and straightens out. "Snap, Crackle, and Pop. I am just about ready to snap my fingers and blow this joint. Or maybe click our heels together like the Wicked Witch of the West."

There's no answering quip. From the soft sounds beside Kelly, Scotty's just barely managed to get to his feet, and as Kelly pulls out his trusty lighter, with the requisite comment about the pros of being a smoker at a time like this, he sees what he's already guessed: the residual panic in his partner's eyes, the tremors in his frame, in the flickering light dancing off the cave walls. "Free delivery today." Smiling lightly, he grasps Scotty's arm and slings it about his shoulders. "Work out the kinks as we go along, Herman. I'm not waiting till your legs wake up."

Scotty leans into Kelly, gratefully. "My legs are not asleep."

"Could have fooled me." Kelly flicks off the lighter for a split second, tightening his grip on Scotty's arm as the man tenses, then wraps his other arm round Scotty's back, fitting his arm under his partner's and flicking the lighter on again. He doesn't miss the way Scotty relaxes instantly beneath in his grip. "That's better, boys and girls. Now, make a left here."

"How do you know the way?"

Kelly's hold on Scotty is solid and sure. "Left a trail of breadcrumbs." He flashes his bemused partner a grin. In point of fact, Scotty was unconscious when their captor made the mistake of showing them a map of these subterranean caves, but he'll let Scotty ponder it for a bit.

After all, if a little mystery (and a little chatter and a supporting grip) is what it takes to conquer a little residual claustrophobia from having woken up drugged, just last month, in a sealed sarcophagus, who is Kelly to deny his partner what he needs?


End file.
